


Pertinax Animo

by rebelcongeriem



Series: Heart Like a Wheel [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Andy trying to come to terms with her own growing feelings for the boy, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts, Ted being Ted and refusing to let Andy ignore his presence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 16:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelcongeriem/pseuds/rebelcongeriem
Summary: Ted being Ted refuses to leave Andromeda alone. and Andromeda being Andromeda doesn’t know how to handle it. Or Him.Cross-posted from tumblr. (weaslcywheezes)





	Pertinax Animo

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one ... 10 months ago? Round about there. And, well, I wanted to post it to ao3 because I'm actually quite proud of it. I always found it fascinating how two Blacks (three if you count Regulus, and I always do) within the same era rebelled, even if in different ways. And so I wanted to explore Andromeda's character and her relationship with Ted. The Black family totally fascinates me, ngl.

  
“You’ve been avoiding me.”

At the sound of that familiar baritone, Andromeda Black glances up from the book, _101 Tricks To Counter-cursing_ , she has propped open in her lap to give the pouting Hufflepuff an inscrutable look.

He’s standing a few inches to her left, a quill tucked behind his ear as he gazes down at her with the proverbial sad puppy-dog eyes. But she doesn’t buy those eyes or that _moue_ for a minute. He’s obviously putting on an act―and much to her self-disgust and irritation, it’s working. She can feel the muscles in her cheeks twitching, as if they want to smile, and it takes every ounce of her determination to maintain a stoic facade.

“I’ve been busy,” she answers after awhile, deliberately lowering her gaze back to the book in hopes that he’ll take the hint and go away, at least for the time being―or at least until she can find another, more plausible excuse to use as foundation for the three hundred and fifty-foot wall she’s determined to throw up between them...to keep him and his winsomeness and his charm and his kindness and everything that makes her question her family’s teachings at bay.

“Afraid I’ll turn your orderly, micromanaged life upside down?” Amusement laces his tone as he hunkers down to her level, drawing so close to her that his knee nearly brushes against her leg. “You know, just because you pretend a problem doesn’t exist doesn’t make it so.” 

“ _Ah_ , so you’ve finally decided to admit that you’re a problem then?” The words are out before she has the chance to recall them, and the minute she realizes what this annoyingly chipper sixth year―this egregiously charming and confident Ted Tonks―has managed to do, (his voice, his expression, his feckless and easygoing attitude working in tandem to target the factious insipidity of her disposition, and thus betraying the true, fluctuating depth of emotions rolling through her in stormy waves), a scowl emerges, peeking through the veneer of passivity she can’t help but cling to.

A veneer she sees as the only lifeline capable of keeping her afloat in a sea of lies and pretenses.

And Ted―he _beams_ , a wide, toothy smile spreading across his lips as he stretches his legs out before him, mindful of just how close he is to touching her. “I’m _your_ problem.”

“Don’t do that.”

He blinks at her innocently. “Do what?”

“What you just did. It’s annoying...and distracting.” Andromeda returns coolly, the soft brown of her eyes mulishly fixated on the elegantly scripted text of a book she would’ve found interesting at any other time―just one more thing to lay at the blameworthy feet of Ted Tonks.

And even though her point of convergence narrows to one thing ( _or tries to_ )―the words on page one hundred and twenty-seven; it’s as if they alone hold all of life’s greatest mysteries, something with which to focus on so that she doesn’t focus on _him_ ―it isn’t long before she catches on to the unfortunate fact that they aren’t nearly riveting enough to hold her attention for long...

To keep her gaze glued to the page and far away from that deceptively innocent face.

 _I’m onto you_ , _Edward Tonks_.

“Distracting? Really? _Me_?”

He sounds so pleased with himself that she has to fight the urge to roll her eyes―a fight she soon loses when she finds herself suddenly caught in the snare of his expressive gaze. One of exaggerated astonishment, complete with wide-eyed wonder and raised eyebrows, the thick, ash-blond brows all but disappearing into his hairline.

He’s really giving it his all now.

Committed to the end.

“I’m not stupid, Tonks. I know _exactly_ what you’re doing.”

“What a coincidence. So do I,” Ted replies airily, nudging her gently with his shoulder as he turns his attention to a few brave first years who’ve ventured near the great lake to poke, prod, and make faces at the massive, bobbing silhouette of the giant squid. A mischievous creature, that one. “I had a free period―wanted to spend it outside, take in the fresh air. Fresh is best. Fresh does the soul good.” And as if to prove his point, he takes a deep breath, then slowly lets it out before giving her an earnest look, tinged with affection. A look that positively _exudes_ genuineness.

A look she refuses to acknowledge as genuine.

Because once she does, she’s a goner.

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, Andromeda heaves an exasperated sigh, having come to a rather outlandish and unexpected realization.

For a muggleborn and a Hufflepuff, Ted Tonks has craftiness down to an art form.

Which is why she’s of the belief that he would’ve made a half-way decent Slytherin.

His next comment cinches it for her.

“Meeting you here was purely coincidental. Blame the stars.”

Andromeda narrows her eyes. “The stars,” she repeats slowly, slim fingers curving around the frayed edges of the book, trying to ground herself in the reality of her life. That whatever it is that draws her to Ted will eventually fade, receding into the background noise of what is and will be expected of her once she graduates and leaves her childhood behind.

“Their alignment,” he clarifies, half-serious, half...something else. “I know better than to argue with Fate. She’s a bit of a polemic. Kind of like you.”

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the face.

“You’re _impossible_ ,” Andromeda bites out, tone sharper than intended. Sharp enough to cut through the _bullshite_ to get right to the heart of the problem. Her skepticism and his―his **_everything_**. “I don’t―I just … I don’t have time for this.” With a shake of her head, she slams the book shut, and reaching for the brown, leather satchel propped against the beech tree, quickly slips the tome inside―then clambers to her feet, securing the bag on her shoulder. “Do us both a favor, Tonks, and stay away from me.”

She turns to walk away, prepared―antsy even―to put as much distance between them as humanly possible, but his hand on her arm stops her.

“Wait,” he says, the calloused pads of his fingers firming to form an unignorable grip.

And his touch―it’s like an electric shock, bringing her nerve endings roaring to life, threatening her composure and turning dutiful resolution into shaky hesitation.

“What if I don’t want to?” He makes the inquiry with a sort of plaintiveness that grabs her attention, causing her to falter, an indecisive frown creasing her brow.

“Stay,” Ted implores softly, stroking his thumb along the underside of her wrist as he watches her with an intensity that sears her all the way to her toes. “Please.”

Her pulse quickens, tendrils of heat coiling low in her belly, and she has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from whimpering like some besotted school girl.

“Stay,” he says again, this time emphatic. 

Some part of her wants to―the part she’s determined to ignore. A determination that pays off in the end.

“ _No_.” She wrenches her arm out of his grasp, and, mustering as much of her cool dignity as she can, her desire to escape fueling her drive, adds, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” And with that, she slips away before he has the chance to grab her arm again, able to breathe easier now that she isn’t ensnared by the magnetic pull and heat of his touch.

 _You win this round_ , _Tonks_.


End file.
